Day 148

Once upon a time, there was a man named Lloyd.

Lloyd grew up working very hard to help support his family.

When he was in his twenties, Lloyd moved to a small town called Williamsburg, Idaho, where he worked on a dairy. It was there that he met a beautiful young woman named Lucy. They had a wonderful courtship, and spent their free time going fishing, dancing and to ball games. Then news came that his mother had fallen ill with the stress of his brother being gone serving overseas in WWI. Lloyd rushed back to Utah to be with his mother, and was heartbroken as she passed away so unexpectedly. While still recovering from the shock of losing his mother, he received his own orders from Uncle Sam. Before showing up for duty, he made one last trip to Williamsburg, to bid his sweetheart farewell. While he was there visiting, he fell gravely ill. He did not recover enough to report for service until the war was over. 

So it was that Lloyd Herbert Hansen asked Lucy May Kunz to be his bride. And on May 23, 1919, that dream became a reality.

Lloyd and Lucy Hansen
One fine looking couple

Together, Lloyd and Lucy raised 9 children to adulthood.

At the age of 58, Lucy became mortally ill. From her death bed she composed a letter to her children that read in part:

"Please get together at least once a year, if you can, and hold those family ties that will bind you through all eternity."

 Their children were touched by their mother's plea, and firmly decided to obey her wishes, even as they became older . . .

Eight of Lloyd and Lucy's children in about 2000, and the ninth photo-shopped in 

and had their own children, who in turn had their own children, who then had even more children.

Less than half of Lloyd and Lucy's posterity, as of 2002

The youngest of the nine children was named Gordon. He had a son named Steve, who then had a gorgeous daughter named Stephanie. That's me, of course. 

Every Memorial Day, for as long as I can remember, we have met in Lewiston, Utah, which is where Lloyd and Lucy (My great grand-parents, in case you've lost track) raised their family. I took this for granted for a very long time. It has only been recently that I have come to appreciate the fact that I know each of my great aunts and uncles by name, and, even more amazingly, they know me by name as well. 

During this annual event, I am also guaranteed to see my cousins. I've always been pretty close to my cousins on that side of my family. As the oldest, I've also felt a great deal of pressure to set an example for the rest of the crew. There is no time that this is more apparent than when a picture is being taken of us. I have consistently striven to have perfect photo etiquette, no matter what chaos ensues around me. As the years have passed, most of them seem to have caught on.

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

Exhibit C - Today
(We're short a few cousins, and have some additional significant others)

I love my cousins. They really are some of my favorite people. I'm so glad that they are stuck with me through virtue of blood.

This year I had a shocking realization of my own age. Do you see that girl in the Hello Kitty sweater next to me? Her name is Brooke. I frequently baby-sat her and her two brothers (Ian in the white shirt, and Eric in the black and white pants) when they were very, very small children.

She used to be my mini-me.

Also, in a shoes-off comparison, I am officially the shortest of my blood-related cousins, even though I am the oldest. What up with that?

 I truly do love every member of my family. Each person is strikingly unique. Just about the only thing we share in common are our noses and fantastic sense of humor. These are the people that I want to spend all of eternity with.

After all, they're the only ones in all of creation in whose presence I feel normal.